Kamino Clash
by Matt Morwell
Summary: My response to a suggestion made by Masteryoda to do a perspective story on ObiWan vs. Jango on Kamino. Based on the Episode II scene. Extended.


I hate rain.  
  
When I first saw this planet, covered with dark clouds on nearly 75 percent of its surface, I wasn't too crazy about it to begin with. But I gave it the benefit of the doubt, especially since it was part of my investigation. And it just wouldn't do to have a Jedi who had fought a Sith Lord with a double-bladed lightsaber, and lived to tell the tale, to be afraid of something so trivial as a few drops of water on his head.  
  
I tell R4 to put me through to Coruscant, and I give Masters Windu and Yoda an update on the situation. I explain to them the existence of the clone army, and why the Prime Minister, Lama Su, had built it.  
  
I have to yell over the roar of the constant thunder. "The Prime Minister tells me that the one who commissioned them to build the army was Master Sifo-Dyas... over ten years ago! I was under the impression he had been killed before that! Do you know anything about this?"  
  
Master Windu shakes his head. "No. Whoever commissioned the army did not do so with the approval of the Jedi Council."  
  
Master Yoda shakes his head. "Blind we are, if we could not see this army being built." He turns to me. "Find this bounty hunter, and bring him here. Question him further, we will. Answers we must have immediately."  
  
"Yes, Master!" I yell. I turn to R4. "Close the channel, R4. I've got some business to take care of."  
  
Of course, R4 heard the entire conversation, so he knew precisely what needed to be done.  
  
I reach out with my senses to find Fett and his son... when I met them, I got the impression that if I found one, the other wouldn't be far behind.  
  
I'm somewhat surprised, but not completely so. Jango and Boba are leaving; I can sense them moving with haste to another platform on the other side of the facility.  
  
I know I've got to get to them quickly. I start running through the expansive, transparent hallways yawning above the developing clone army. With the water still slick on my boots, I trip and fall on my face.  
  
"*Very* dignified," I mutter. I push myself back up and continue the chase.  
  
They've already made it to the platform, I can feel it. I move even faster, using the Force to help me.  
  
They don't know I'm coming; it's Jango's intuition that tells him he's in trouble. He seems to have known that I was going to call my masters and bring him to Coruscant. He knows he doesn't have much time.  
  
I finally make it to the platform. There, I see Jango wearing his full Mandalorian armor, and his son bogged down with overflowing travel bags.  
  
Jango's helmeted head whips around and he sees me through that thin black visor.  
  
I know what he's going to do. He wants to get away, but he's going to have to keep me away. And that means he's going to shoot at me.  
  
"Boba, get on board!" he shouts, the speaker on his belt pack doing to talking.  
  
His son bolts into the hold, even as loaded down as he is with the bags. I'm almost impressed; the boy is strong.  
  
But he's not the one I'm concerned with.  
  
I pull out my lightsaber and activate it.  
  
At the same time, Jango pulls out one of the two pistols hanging off his belt, aims it at me, and fires. I block the shot easily.  
  
He has precise aim; he went for my shoulder, not the head or chest. He only wants to keep me away, not kill me. I can almost detect an aura of pity for things having come to this.  
  
No time to think about it. He fires again, this time at my right side. I block that one, too; the bolt ricochets harmlessly into the water far below.  
  
Jango becomes frustrated and fires faster, now not really caring where he hits me. I'm advancing toward him, and he doesn't like it.  
  
As I rush forth, I feel the rain start to pelt me again. My saber's blue blade hisses at the torrent as it evaporates every drop it touches.  
  
I hate rain.  
  
Jango pulls out his other blaster now and fires at me with both. I block all of his shots, as I've been trained to do. I used to think training was a bore, even with a saber; I know better now. All that experiene with remotes paid off for me during the Naboo incident ten years ago, and it's coming through for me again.  
  
Just as I come into arm's length of Jango, he uses his rocket pack to launch himself high into the wet air, firing at me all the while. He flies around and ducks behind a support strut jutting out from the end of the platform.  
  
As I begin to reach out with the Force to bring him down, I sense a sudden buzz of danger... but it isn't from Jango. No, this one is from the ship. For a split-instant, I see Jango's cloned son, Boba, sitting at the upturned pilot's seat and take the firing controls.  
  
Perhaps he is of more trouble than I gave him credit for.  
  
The waves of danger emanating from the ship so distract me that Jango takes the opportunity to fire the miniature warhead mounted on his jet pack. I sense it jst in time and throw myself back. The warhead strikes underneath my right arm; the concussion shreds the right side of my robe and knocks my lightsaber out of my hand.  
  
"Damn," I mutter. I look around for my lightsaber, which has deactivated and has managed to hide itself in one of the darker areas of this already dark platform. The rain continues to pelt away at me.  
  
I see my saber and desperately call it to me.  
  
But as it flies thorugh the air, I am again buzzed by danger and I dodge backward.  
  
The strange sound of the Fett ship's blasters sings in my ears as Boba fires on me. The saber flies across the platform and again hides itself in a dark corner.  
  
Jango seizes the opportunity to fly down and take a few potshots at me. I rise to my feet as he descends, and I call the Force to help me as he takes aim.  
  
I leap into the air, become level with Jango, hang there next to him for what seems an eternity, and kick my feet out. One catches both outstretched arms, knocking both his blasters from his hands.  
  
The other foot slams into his chest and throws him in the other direction.  
  
We both land on our backs. He recovers more quickly, being the one with body armor; he gets up and yanks on my right ankle. It's a precise, calculated move, designed to break it in several places.  
  
Before he can properly execute it, however, I lash out with my left foot and kick the side of his helmet. He stumbles back, dazed.  
  
I get to my feet. He comes at me with a roundhouse punch. Easily avoided; I duck the punch, then hit him with an uppercut. He stumbles further, but I stay with him; Boba's got their ship in the air now, and he's maneuvering to point the blasters at me. I can't get away from his father, or else I'm toast.  
  
But neither can I let his father get away, or else I'm just as equally toast... by a worse executor: the Jedi Council.  
  
Jango tries to hit me again. I block this time, then hit his diaphragm with an open-handed strike. I hear his breath blast out of him as he flies backward and across the pad. He seems to be down for the count, at least for the moment.  
  
I sense Boba's burning, twisted joy as he gets the target lock he's been waiting for. I jump out of the way as he fires on me, and I jump across the length of his floating ship in a desperate move to evade him and find my saber.  
  
My eyes spot it a moment later, resting comfortably in a small corner.  
  
I reach out and call it to me, anticipating it, and I try to catch it with both hands...  
  
But Jango is back up, and he's as desperate for me not to get my weapon as I am to get it. He fires some sort of lasso cord from a wrist- mounted shooter. It wraps around my wrists and catches them securely in its grasp.  
  
Jango takes to the air with his jet pack once more, and I hit the ground. Jango's trying to get into a "safe" position for Boba to shoot me down.  
  
That won't happen.  
  
I slide across the slick, rain-coated metal platform and near the support strut. Thinking as quickly as I can, I slip up to my feet and move around the strut in the other direction. I brace myself against the strut, and I call on the Force to help me.  
  
Jango is suddenly, violently jerked in the air and lets out a howl of pain and anger; the cord is still attached to his arm. His jet pack spontaneously decides to take a new course, slips off his back, and explodes after a moment or so of erratic, undirected flight.  
  
He hangs in midair for an instant, then falls over the edge of the platform.  
  
And I'm still attached to him by the cord.  
  
I look over the edge.  
  
It's a long way down.  
  
"Oh, not good," I mutter.  
  
Jango hits the domed, rain-slick surfacing of the platform's undercarriage hard, and slides down swiftly.  
  
He drags me with him. I'm yanked off my feet and down the dome faster than he. I tumble off into space.  
  
Hitting the water at this speed would be the same as hitting a durasteel plate.  
  
This is it.  
  
I'm going to die.  
  
Suddenly, I'm jerked to a halt in the middle of my freefall. What...?  
  
I look up and I see it; Jango was so worried that I'd bring him down with me that he'd ejected some sort of spike plating from his wrist-mounted arsenal and used it to stop our fall.  
  
As grateful as I am, I don't have time to worry about it. Jango didn't do it to keep me from falling; he'd done it to keep himself from doing so. And now that his fall had stopped, he had a free hand to disengage the cord from his wrist and let me continue mine.  
  
That's exactly what he does a moment later.  
  
As I fall, I seize the opportunity to unravel the cord from my wrists and throw it toward an adjacent support strut.  
  
The weighted end catches it. I guide the weight around the strut and tie it off just as it draws taut.  
  
I sigh in relief as I hang over the rasging water below.  
  
But my work isn't finished yet.  
  
I swing out to another platform down below. There's a doorway down there. I land hard, but I'm not going to be so easily deterred, even without my lightsaber. Hopefully it hasn't been thrown over the platform, or been taken by the Fetts.  
  
I race through the hallways of the Kaminoan facility, giving no attention to the strange looks I receive from Kaminoans or the clone troopers below. Within seconds, I'm back on the platform where the Fetts are.  
  
Or were. Jango's running into the hold of the aloft ship even now.  
  
I scan the platform for my saber and find it quickly. I call it to me and activate it, preparing to jump into the hold if I must.  
  
But the ship is already too high for me to reach. And even if I could, its hull is so slick from the rain that I wouldn't stay on it for long.  
  
I reach into my robe and pull out one of my tracers. I throw it at Fett's ship and assist the strength of my throw with the Force.  
  
The tracer hits the hull and immediately activates. No doubt R4 is already receiving a signal from it.  
  
I deactivate my lightsaber. I have no need of it now. I hook it to my belt, and I pull out my comlink. "R4, prepare for takeoff. I'll be up soon."  
  
R4 beeps acknowledgment.  
  
I look up at the dark sky, still pouring its endless maelstrom of rain upon me and the entire world.  
  
I hate rain. 


End file.
